Vita Merlini
by Riley Lee
Summary: "Come on, open your eyes! Open your eyes. Remember, we're two sides of the same coin? Don't you know; without one there cannot be the other? That means you can't die. I forbid you to die."
1. First Death

I do not own anything and before someone says something; yes, it is all supposed to be in italics for reasons only my brain knows.

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><p><em>"No!"<em>

_The single word pierced deeper into his heart than any sword could. The word was shouted across scarred lands, deafening to the point where it was the only noise that could be heard. All the smashing of metal against metal and thunderous whispers of magic laden incantations were momentarily silent. All he could hear was that one simple word. _

_All he could see was the traitorous man he had saved as a child plunge a sword right above _his_ heart. He could see the blue eyes widen in momentary pain or shock—from this distance he couldn't tell which—before the body slumped to the ground, unmoving and unnaturally still. The man standing over the top of him was grinning, his own dark blue eyes mad with power and insanity and _pride_. Pride that he had killed his **friend**._

_He didn't think he didn't realize what he was doing; his body just seemed act on its own accord. His eyes quickly found the sword bathed in the flames of a dragon's breathe and his hand immediately sought out the familiar hilt. The moment his fingers tightened around the form of Excalibur, he felt as if he himself had been consumed by the fires of the dragon. His blood was burning. The blade was humming as the magic instilled within the metal roared for retribution, snarled for the lifeblood of his eternal enemy. And he gave it to the magical blade._

_Excalibur entered into Mordred's body right where he had dared stabbed his friend. The fire inside of him flaring up in exhilaration when he saw the stunned eyes of the traitor slowly being to fill with agony, the _sorcerer_ hadn't expected to be taken down by such mundane means He hadn't expected to be stabbed the same way he had just killed the man only a few feet away. Yet, even with him bleeding and gapping for breath of air only for his lungs to fill with blood instead, Excalibur was not through with the traitor. The magical sword drew on the burning fire inside of him and used them like the dragon's flames it was bathed in to incinerate Mordred from the inside out. His screams of anguish rang through the battlefield, silenced by a crack of thunder._

_He didn't care though; he was already sprinting across the small stretch of land to his fallen friend. Everything else around him was just an inconvenience, another obstacle to saving the one life that meant more to him than he was willing to admit; even to himself. It was only a matter of seconds before he was at the still form's side, dropping Excalibur into the ground haphazardly and he, himself crumpling down to the ground. Gently, with more care than he could ever recall using before, he cradled the unmoving body to his chest and did the only thing he could do. He prayed, and not just to anyone, he prayed to the Old Religion. _

_The Old Religion was still strong on the land beneath him. Or at least it had been before the dawn of the day. Now the land bared all its scars to be seen by all. The ragged terrain which once housed a portion of a beautiful forest was nothing more than a desolated graveyard. Bodies of the proud warriors of Camelot littered the clearing, some of them had eyes which stared on for eternity yet were to never see anything again and others were clinging onto life, waiting for a miracle but there were none forthcoming. Limbs lay limp, severed from their owners next to puddles tinged red which were slowly growing bigger with each passing second._

_"Come on, open your eyes! Open your eyes!" he muttered into the ragged, blood stained hair. "You can't die, cannot! Remember, we're two sides of the same coin? Don't you know; without one there cannot be the other? That means you can't die. I won't allow it, I forbid you to die."_

_"Be-tt'r," the word was coughed out, making him snap his head up and seeing half lidded glazed blue eyes stare into his own. Pale lips, which seemed to become even paler, keep moving, trying to whisper out words only to result in blood coming out in their place; blood which contrasted sharply against the white skin that was growing colder in his grasp. "…'ead…moster…"_

_"What?" he asked, trying to make out the words which were being chocked out by the man, who seemed keen on repeating the words again; coughing up more blood with each passing second. He tried to shush his friend, tried to make him save his energy until help came, but they both knew no help would come. Not in time; he was dying. _

_"…'ead…moster…t'an..ou"_

_"Dead… monster? Yes, I-I killed him, I killed Mordred, the monster is gone," he tried to reassure the dying man, but that only made the body in his arms tremble and shake before going still once more. A long breathe escaped the man's lips, but no air rushed in to his lungs to replace it. _

_Yet, the man somehow managed to pass on one last message through dying lips, "Luv..Art'ur."_

_The King of Camelot was temporarily dazed by his friend's last words to such an extent that he didn't notice when blue eyes closed for the final time. He was too caught up in the words he had never expected to hear from his beloved friend's mouth and in truth, he did not know how to feel. The warlock had always been by his side, always listening to him when he need someone to talk to, advising him when he needed, and even yelling at him when he was being a "prat" and he never seemed to want anything in return. _

_A fact which had never made any sense to him; why would the most powerful warlock in all of history be loyal to a fault to _him_? The warlock could have done anything with such power at his fingertip, but he never did. When asked why, he would just smile slightly and say it wasn't his destiny. But even the king knew that destiny did not, could not, have such a strong tie over such a powerful being. He could have chosen to break his own destiny if he wanted to; there was something else which held the warlock to his side. It only took his death for Arthur to finally find out._

_Love bound the man to him. _

_The king only broke out of his reflections when he realized something was wrong after the body in his arms went completely limp, all the tension and pain flowing out. _

_"Merlin?" the whispered name was softly spoken as he lightly shook the body in his arms. But there was no response. "MERLIN!" the king shouted. "Come on, you can't just tell me that-that you love me and die! Not…not when…not without me telling…Merlin…I love you."_

_When he thought about it, when the thoughts crashed down on him, he knew it was true. He was in love with Merlin and for the life of him, he couldn't tell when he started to feel this way towards his friend. He could pick out a dozen of times when it was Merlin he went to, Merlin whose opinion matter so much to him, Merlin who he wanted to protect, Merlin…Merlin…Merlin. How could he have not realized it before? He had been in love with the warlock far longer than he had been married to Guinevere. But why hadn't the idiot said anything? Why had he helped him win over Guinevere's heart when he had obviously been in love with Arthur for just as long, if not longer, than he had loved him? The warlock had step aside for his happiness, that was the only explanation; but at what cost to himself?_

_"You idiot! You should have said something! You should have told me!" the man shouted, burying his head into the graying raven locks of hair which were now clotted with drying bloods. A tear making it's was down the King of Camelot's face. "I love you too, Merlin."_

_Around the Once and Future King, the Old Religion let tears fall. Rain drops fell down, mourning the loss for its son, the son of magic, and his lost lover as the wind howled its rage. Bolts of lightning danced around the graveyard and cracks of thunder roared its discontent. With one last large flash of lightning, the sky went black._

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><p>Hello Merlin community, this is my very first Merlin fic...sorry it is so depressing, but this was what happens when I've just finished reading the King Arthur myths and then watching random episodes of Merlin. It was supposed to be how Mordred killed Arthur and Merlin still being there unlike in the legend; however, somehow it ending with Merlin dying instead. For now, this is as complete as I can make it.<p>

Riley Lee


	2. Second Chance

It is finished now, I swear, I won't be writing any more under this fic. Hopefully, you guys like it.

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><p>Blackness. An inky abyss with only darkness for company; the place held no light or warmth. It was just a void of nothingness; a place where Arthur did not want to leave. He wanted to entomb himself into the sweet blackness of unconsciousness. Even though darkness ruled the abyss and consumed his soul the longer he stayed, at least in the abyss there was no false light. His light had died with Merlin. His light <em>was<em> Merlin.

In the bliss of unconsciousness, Arthur could ward off the hurt and the gaping hole where his heart use to be. He could pretend that Merlin never died, that he was still alive and would be waiting for him. The warlock just wouldn't be waiting for him when he woke up. And no matter how much Arthur was fighting to stay in the darkness, he was being pulled to consciousness.

The loss of Merlin and the pain that went with it hit Arthur first as consciousness over took him, intensifying his struggles to stay away from the waking world. Yet, it was no use; his mind was already working and processing unwanted thoughts. Thoughts which were jumbled, fleeting and hard to grasp, but his mind was determined to grasp these thoughts. Working on alternatives of what he could have done to save Merlin, what could have been done differently so that Merlin wasn't there. So that Merlin didn't die. But the warlock was always by Arthur's side, even when it meant certain death, which was what it led down to in the end.

The only way Merlin would not have been _there_, would have been if _Arthur_ wasn't there. His kingdom had been left defenseless and ready for Mordred conquers when he had left, which had been his –Merlin's–downfall. He wouldn't have left his kingdom if Gwaine hadn't talked him in to seeking revenge on Lancelot. But he really couldn't blame the knight, not when Lancelot killed Gareth, the last family Gwaine had left. Not when he took his own revenge out on Mordred. If Lancelot hadn't killed Gareth, Gwaine wouldn't have needed to persuade him to lay siege on his former knight. But Gareth wouldn't have been killed if he hadn't tried to defend his king's honor when he found Lancelot in bed with Queen Guinevere.

Arthur's mind continued to run through similar thoughts. There were so many what-if scenarios that could have happened, that could have been done. What Arthur realized everything really boiling down to was that how things could have gone various ways, they didn't go the way he craved; the outcome was still the same. Merlin was dead.

Sighing, Arthur rolled over and tried to bury himself further into the sheets and away from the sunlight that was trying to warm his chilled skin. A frown marred his face, but he didn't dare open his eyes, he was still trying to fall back into the bliss of unconsciousness. However, he did wonder where he was. The last thing he remembered was sitting on the battlefield with Merlin in his arms and then a flash of lighting. After that, everything was blank in his memory. He couldn't recall how he had come to be in the bed he currently occupied or why he was actually in a _bed_.

He couldn't remember the last time he actually had a bed to sleep in, not with the campaign against Lancelot and then against Mordred. The best he could do was a bedroll, but even that had become damaged and uncomfortable from the constant use. Arthur hoped that his knights hadn't pulled someone else out of their own beds to commandeer one for him, even if he was the king. Although, that also begged the question how long had he been asleep? Because he was pretty sure that there were no villages for at least a day's ride and no noblemen's dwellings for two day's ride; and judging by the soft silkiness of the bedding which was draped over his body, Arthur knew he had to be in a noblemen's house.

The door creaking open and the sound of dishes clinking together caught the king's attention, bringing his mind even further from sleep. Arthur listened to the noisy steps of the servant shuffling around the room and couldn't help but think that the servant reminded him of Merlin during his days as his manservant. Merlin never had been the quiet soft stepping servant that diligent servants were supposed to have, his personality wouldn't allow it. The warlock never could stand the silence, there always had to be something making noise and if there wasn't, he would make his own.

Hearing more movements from within the room, Arthur couldn't help but think the servant–who sounded like he or she was stroking the fire–was either new to the household or nervous about serving the king. He remembered numerous servants that were always on edge around him when they first came into his services or when he visited other households. Merlin would always comment on how he had never been that subservient in his presence, even when he had been his manservant, and Arthur would always have to remind him that was because he was an idiot, which would lead to one of their friendly verbal wars.

"Rise and shine," the cheerful voice echoed throughout the room. Arthur's eyes instantly slamming open as he propelled himself into a sitting position, only for his body to seize.

Arthur wanted to rub his eyes, to blink to make sure he wasn't seeing things, but his eyes wouldn't leave the sight before him. He didn't want what he saw to disappear if he blinked, he didn't want Merlin to be just a figment of his imagination. Because there was no other way for the man–a _dead_ man–to be puttering around the room acting like there wasn't wrong. Just picking up discarded clothing like a _servant_ and rambling in general, something that the warlock had not done in years. Merlin was a part of his court, one of his advisors; he hadn't even so much as joined Arthur for his morning meal in the royal chambers since Guinevere had become his Queen. The last thought had the king looking more closely at the man.

The man was more a boy than man, his tall frame and lanky limbs made him appear a little older than he seemingly was, but his face still held on to some of his adolescent features. If Arthur had to guess, the boy was maybe a year or two away from coming of age. Raven hair curled slightly around rather noticeable ears and contrasted greatly with the servant's pale skin. The rather quick glance that the king had of the boy's face revealed blue eyes, the exact color he couldn't be determined, and a smooth face. His clothes were ragged and lacking the vibrate dyes only nobility could afford, assuring him of his previous assumptions that he was a servant.

If Arthur did not know better, he would say he was looking at Merlin, a much younger Merlin, but a Merlin all the same. A Merlin who was currently staring at him uneasily, shifting from foot to foot in a gesture the King of Camelot had become very familiar with an older Merlin during court proceedings when the warlock became unease. A Merlin who looked too much like and acted too much like _Merlin_.

"Hallucinating," Arthur finally said to himself, letting his head fall into his hand, rubbing his temple. "I'm hallucinating…that must be it, a hallucination."

"Arthur? Sire?" the serving boy–who was _not_ Merlin–asked, hesitation clearly in his voice. "What's wrong?"

Even though he knew he was hallucinating, that his brain was tricking him, he couldn't help himself from snapping at the boy to be quiet. Despite the fact he had his head in his hands, Arthur was still able to glimpse the servant taking a step back. He could not help but feel guilty for scaring a servant and knew that Merlin wouldn't have approved. The king knew he was still emotional raw from everything which had happened; Guinevere and Lancelot's betrayal, the countless battles, Merlin's love confession, Merlin's death. Everything happened closely together and he didn't allow himself to feel anything since his best friend and wife's infidelity. This was the first time he could actual grieve for the death of his other half.

"Go," Arthur final said flatly, not bothering to look at the servant. "Go get the physician."

The boy quickly left the room, stumbling over his feet as he scrambled to get out of the room. It only took a second before the door closed and Arthur permitted himself to look up to see that the room was empty. A room which was very richly decorated, some would even say lavished with extravagant decorations. The furniture was made out of the best quality, elaborately decorated with skillfully engraved depictions, and the sheets on the bed were made out of the finest material. On the table, near the end of the bed, a plate of food laden with sausages and cheese was waiting to be eaten.

Arthur couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu sitting in the bed, but he could not place what _it_ was. There was something about the room sparking something within his memory and whatever it was would not leave him alone. Although, given the choice, the king would rather try to figure out what his subconscious seemed to know that he didn't than thinking about recent traumatic events. The recent events and his hallucinations were not something Arthur wanted to deal with at the moment, he would rather have the physician treat him for his hallucinations and deal with Merlin's death on his own.

Dropping his head back into his hands, Arthur took a deep breath and tried to keep the emotions threatening to break loose at bay. He couldn't afford to let his emotions take control, not when he was in some unknown noble's house. Not until he was safely back in Camelot, back in his own room and behind closes doors. Only then would he allow himself to grieve for his friend and other half.

So focused on keeping his emotions in check, the king didn't hear the door open and the light steps of someone entering. However, he did hear the tender clearing of a woman's throat and the familiar sound of his name spoken by a once familiar voice. Once again, Arthur looked up to see a well know face and a person who could not possible be there. This time he couldn't help the name of a well-known woman who died over two decades ago escape his lips.

"Morgana," Arthur's voice barely came out as a whisper, eyes transfixed by the younger vision of his half-sister. Her eyes radiating the familiar golden-glow of magic in use and the whole world seemed to still.

"I am not the witch, Once and Future King," Morgana spoke, yet the voice coming out was unfamiliar, layered as if more the one person was speaking at the same time. "I am nothing, I am everything, I am old, I am new, I am everywhere and I am nowhere all at once; and you child, have been given a chance to save my child."

A shuttered inhalation was all the king could manage as the person-people-Morgana spoke. His head whirling as he tried to remember everything that Merlin had explained to him about possession of people; gleefully telling him about the Cedric's possession and the magic behind it. However, this wasn't anything like Merlin had explained; there was something off, something different about the magic. Arthur's brain came crashing to a halt and if he wasn't already sitting down, he would have fallen down.

The words the not-Morgana spoke repeating through his head rapidly. "Magic…your magic…"

"Yes, I am magic, pure magic, I am the Old Religion," the voices overlapped again, and this time, if he really strained his ears, Arthur could hear Merlin, Gaius, and many other magicians he had met over the years voices all mixed in with Morgana's.

However, that didn't answer what was happening to him, why he was seeing people that were dead. "What is going on, why have you brought me here?"

"My child was not meant to die that night, Once and Future King," the main voices seemed grim and sadness laced a good deal of the voices as well. A shimmering golden tear trailed down the porcelain face, falling to the ground with a tiny burst of uncontrolled magic creating an etching of what looked to be a young Aithusa in the stone flooring. "You were meant to die, but my child took your place instead."

"Merlin," the name slipped out of Arthur's mouth involuntarily, interrupting the most powerful being he had ever meet, probably the most powerful entity in the whole universe.

"Yes, he was not meant to die, but he did. A life for a life; however the balance was not maintained," a distressed looked crossed Morgana's face, but no magical tears fell. "My child's life energy, his magic, was too much and it tipped the balance and chaos spread through the lands if I hadn't intervened."

Confusion crossed the king's face, feeling like he was talking to Kilgharrah with all his riddles once again. Oh how he wished he had Merlin here to help him decipher the language of magic and how everyone who had it always seemed to talk in riddles around him. "Intervened how?"

"By giving the Once and Future King a second chance to change the fate of my child," the Old Religion answered and that was when everything clicked into place. Why he had such a sense of déjà vu, the room, the furniture, everything around him was _his. _He was in his room from the time of he had been the prince, before he had known that Merlin was a warlock, when he had been his brash and impetuous self, when he hadn't known better. It explained why the servant looked like a younger Merlin, why his half-sister possessed by the Old Religion looked younger, he was in the _past_.

He had a second chance and he wasn't about to waste it. This time he would keep his light safe, Merlin wasn't going to die.

As if sensing his resolve, a smile filled the Old Religion-Morgana's face before the golden light in her eyes flickered out and she looked at him in concern.

"Oh Arthur, Merlin just came running by saying you were asking for Gaius, are you alright? Hopefully you aren't coming down with something, the tournament is only in a few days and didn't you say something about defeating, Sir Valiant?"

"I'm fine Morgana, just have the stomach flu, there is nothing to worry about," the king, now a prince once again, smiled softly as Merlin came through the door once again, helping Gaius with his medicine bad. "Nothing to worry about at all."

The Once and Future King had a second chance and he was not about to waste it for anything.

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><p>This was the whole idea for the first part of this, having Arthur be thrown back in time to give him a second chance. I was considering writing some more, havin a mature Arthur that knows about Merlin's magic, while Merlin is frantically trying to hide it from him. However, I don't think I could do a story like that justice. So, this has been sitting in limbo until I came up with a way to end it properly. Problem was, I forgot about it until I found it about two hours ago and thought 'what the heck, I just finished my Avengers story, why not trying to finish this one as well? I seem to be on a role' and what do you know, I did! Yeah me.<p>

_**Riley Lee**_


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